Finding Yourself at the Edge of the World
by Tanthalos
Summary: Finding Yourself at the Edge of the World, a Tale of the Night's Watch.a fanfic for the Game of Thrones series. Please Read & Review
1. Chapter 1

**Finding Yourself at the Edge of the World, a Tale of the Night's Watch**

Chapter 1

Rydon Krall leaned over the rail and enjoyed the feeling of the sea's spray on his

face. He could see the shore of the mainland coming up fast and again for a moment

doubted the actions he was taking.

He pulled out the letter for the Lord of the Pyke again, and stared at it. If he dropped

it, just let go, no one would be the wiser. The letter to Lord Balon was a slanderous thing at

best.

It was a letter from Rydon, one of Balon's best captains, and one of the longest

served. Talking about how the old ways were lost and it was neither Robert Baratheon nor

Eddard Stark that had taken them.

The men of iron had thrown the old ways aside out of fear. The worshippers of the

Drowned God always said 'What is dead cannot die.' But then ran and hid their lives away.

They paid the iron price against fat merchant and green boys wearing iron, when they

should be going after stronger prey. Assuming of course that Balon or any ironman actually

possessed some form of strength. Balon hid behind the excuse of his son's life, hid behind

the words he had said to Stark and the other when he had been beaten.

Perhaps Balon hid behind these facts or others but one thing was certain he did hide.

Which he was too cowardly to hold the seat he did. An ironman of strength and courage

should by right and law take the seat from Balon but none had. No matter what Balon's true

strength was the weakness and cowardice that had consumed the ironmen was greater.

Rydon himself was no exception, not really. The fact that he doubted his strength

enough to consider his current plan of action was proof enough of that.

He would reach the mainland, hand the letter to his secondary and then make for the

Wall.

The Wall, the redemption of his strength. Against the true north he would have to

pay the iron price everyday and not for frivolous things like gold or saltwives but for his

life.

If he is unable to pay the price for his life north of the end of the world? Then the

Others can have him. The Others can have them all.

As the ship pulled into the harbour Rydon gave the letter and his instructions to his

secondary.

_What is dead could not die._

_What was too afraid to live could not be dead._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Loras Tyrell sat alone in the chambers, a cup of wine in hand, a low fire burning in

the hearth and a sense of foreboding in the room.

Lucas Samton walked into the room sat down hard and sighed. He was on the older

side, dark hair coming down to his shoulders. There was a scar compromising of three

gashes the covered the left side of his face. The clothing and armour he wore were well

worn, the golden flowers of Highgarden faded, the once bright green scratched to pale. A

worn down man in worn down wears.

"I'm so happy the Knight of Flowers could find time to meet with the likes of me."

"Ser Lucas, I do not know what I've done to deserve such a greeting but I must

apologize."

Lucas sighed again, It's not you per say it's that title of yours. The silly thing is

getting more and more popular by the day. Why I remember the day you first had a sword

put in your hand."

"As do I, you put it in my hand before we started my first lesson."

"You were green then…"

Loras smiled, "I hope I have improved some since then."

"Yes boy you've improved a bit, not much but some. You're a knight of summer

though. No matter how good you think you get your still green until you experience your

first winter as a knight."

Loras simply nodded. There were times when his teacher and house Tyrell's master-

at-arms went on these rants, you just had to let them pass.

"I'm leaving Loras."

Nothing was said. They both just sat there in silence. Loras staring at Lucas, Lucas

staring down at his hands.

Finally Loras broke the silence. "Where will you be going?"

"To the Wall."

Silence reigned again.

"Why?"

"I have my reasons Loras. I will be leaving in the next couple of days. I just wanted

to make sure you heard it from my lips and not some gossips."

"Is it because of her?"

Lucas froze, "No Loras, it's because my position here and by extension my own self

have grown stagnant. I have no real use here anymore, I'm getting too old and wish to try

and be of some use somewhere if I can. Is that too much too ask for?"

Loras looked down, ashamed. He had forced his teacher to admit perceived

weakness. Lucas Samton was proud and stubborn, it must have been difficult. The Knight

of Flowers also was ashamed that Lucas was right. Highgarden was at peace for now but if

it ever went to war someone younger would most likely take the man-at-arms position and

Lucas would be sent to the field to kill till he died.

Lucas looked down on the young Tyrell, he was upset. For those that knew him Ser

Loras was an easy book to read.

Lucas was also upset because Loras had been right. One of the main reasons he was

running away, and make no mistake he was running away was because of that woman.

_In the north it was said it got so cold, a person's blood could freeze._

_This man hoped it was so cold his heart could freeze._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"You really have to stop saying it Rodrik, your just going to get yourself into more

trouble then you'll be able to handle."

"Jon Snow I don't know how you can do it!" The youth looked at the sullen boy. "I

don't know how you can let them hide the truth."

Jon took a deep breath, "The truth is I'm a bastard. My father will not publicly

recognize me for the offence it would create to Lady Catelyn and he never will speak of my

mother."

It was hard for Jon to not get mad. He was getting tired of having this argument and

the salt it rubbed in wounds that wouldn't heal.

Rodrik Snow, who had just turned the age of being a man was getting tired of

having this argument. Why wouldn't his cousin listen to him?

"But I know who my mother was and she told me who my father was."

"But you have no proof Rodrik, just your mother's word that you are a Stark.

Without proof all you are doing is bringing dishonour to the family you claim to be a part

of."

The two were walking along the shore of a large shallow river that ran through the

Wolfswood. Rodrik liked to walk here when he just wanted to think, or strengthen his

resolve. While Jon may have let himself be tricked out of his name, Rodrik would not do

the same.

Rodrik Snow was a Stark born and true, the fact that his father was dead should

have made no difference. The man was still his father, the man was still buried in the crypts

of Winterfell, the man still carried the last name of Stark. Rodrik's last name should be

Stark, what was the big deal?

"I dishonour them? THEY DISHONOUR ME! They deny who I am for reasons I

don't understand! Your father lies when he says I'm not a Stark, he out right lies!"

Jon turned into Rodrik's path. "My father never lies! How dare you say that?"

"Jon, this isn't your fight. My honour is not yours to clear."

Both young men whirled to face the woods, where the unexpected voice had come

from. In the shadows cast by the leaves stood a man, tall with square shoulders. His face

was covered by a short trimmed dark beard; it was easy to see that the blood of the first

men ran through his veins. You could see it in the squareness of his jaw, the cold look he

naturally had in his eye and the way he carried himself even out here trudging through fresh

summer snow looking for a boy that had just become a man.

Jon stepped away from Rodrik, he saw Ice the Stark family's ancient sword at his

father's side. Lord Eddard only carried that with him when he was expecting to use it.

"Father please he doesn't mean you any…"

Eddard cut Jon off by raising his hand. "Rodrik and what happens to him now are

not your concern Jon. Head back to the castle. I shall catch up shortly."

Jon hesitated for a moment, went to speak then fell silent. He looked at his friend,

forlorn, he wasn't even sure he should…could say goodbye. Rodrik looked at Jon, and in

his eyes there was a cold fire, a fire Jon had seen elsewhere many a time when his father

faced a believed injustice. It was that look at that moment that had Jon believe that perhaps

there was some truth to Rodrik's claim. Of course now though it was too late.

After Eddard was sure Jon had left, he looked at Rodrik. "I've come to ask you to

leave Rodrik."

"Why? Is swallowing the truth getting too filling uncle?"

Eddard sighed, "Look Rodrik. If you could give me one shred of evidence of what

you say is true then I would welcome you into my home and family with open arms. But

you can't and I can't have you making these sorts of claims unfounded."

Eddard reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bag, it jangled, the sound of

coins bouncing together; lots of coins. "Take this; it should keep you going for a while."

Eddard tossed the bag at Rodrik. It hit Rodrik square in the chest and fell into the

snow at his feet.

"I will not take that money If you will not accept who I am then I will not take your

charity. My claim is not unfounded but I guess that's past the point of concern isn't it? I

think perhaps I should have you cut me down, at least that way my honour will remain

intact. If I run, hide and lie about who I am then I will have no honour at all, and that will

disappoint my father greatly."

"Do you think he will think better of you or me if you force me to cut you down?"

Rodrik closed his eyes and looked down. When he looked back up it was plain to

see that he fighting back the tears. "I can't stay and I can't go if I wish to keep my honour,

and I am not allowed to die because I'll lose my honour and by extension my father's…I

guess there is only one thing left for me to do."

"What is that?"

"Lord Eddard I'm going back to the castle, to retrieve a few things. Thank you for

letting me stay with you and I…I…apologize for causing trouble for you."

Eddard walked over, "What do you plan to do?"

"And…yeah, you can tell Jon that he can have anything he wants I leave behind. Oh

and can you tell him good bye?"

Eddard could do nothing but nod, and watch the young man walk back towards

Winterfell Castle.

_This man knew he would get no honour from his birth._

_This man hoped he would get honour from his death._


End file.
